Sweet Dreams
by RalynnFrost
Summary: Following the events of "Brave New World", a new threat has risen. When the fabric of reality begins to fall apart can Peter, Claire, and Sylar stop it before all of New York is consumed by nightmare? "Dream" volume 1 - Sylaire
1. Chapter 1

**Sweet Dreams**

After The Fall

Chapter One

"This is private property and you all need to leave."

"Mr. Petrelli, do you have any comments on last week's incident at the carnival?"

"Mr. Petrelli, do you have any information on the political developments that you can share with us?"

"Mr. Petrelli, what kind of dangers do these super powers pose to the people?"

A slew of voices followed Peter back up the drive to his front door, shouting questions and speculations about what the recent exposure of his kind would mean to the world. He waved them all away and kept walking without a backward glance.

It had been two weeks since the Sullivan Brothers' carnival and reporters were still salivating over the idea of getting an exclusive story. At first the sensational idea of everyday people walking around with real super powers had garnered an attention that no one, not even Claire herself could have ever been prepared for. Upon Peter and Claire's return to the Petrelli home they were faced with blockades of people surrounding the would-be quiet neighborhood. Reporters from every news outlet local and national alike were camping out in their vans, cameras always at the ready. Any space left between them was taken up by civilians. Some wished support and encouraged the bravery that lead to the 'Great Revelation'. Some spread fear and discontent, and still others just looking to gawk without the consideration to disguise their curiosities. At least now the ever noisy shutterbug throng had dwindled to a few stubborn dozen.

Angela Petrelli, after receiving one of her visions had already taken the liberty of gathering a small arsenal of personal body guards to protect the premises and escort the family to and from the home. She was at least half right in doing so. The men in black stationed all around the area effectively deterred much of the vandalism and hate acts that had swept over the city. But any time one of the Petrellis, whether they were known to have powers or not needed to leave, their comings and goings were met with little resistance. Everyone was more than a little hesitant to get to close. Even the fanatics and prying reporters would spread like the Red Sea in fear of bodily harm or contamination of sorts.

"Who ever would have thought that checking the mail could become hazardous to your health?" Peter quietly mumbled with a sideways smirk as he dumped a full arm load of envelopes onto the table before an irritated Angela. She sipped her tea from one hand and tossed a few letters over with the other before looking up at Peter with the tight lipped frown that had become a staple during those two weeks.

"This never should have happened. She had no right to expose to us all like that," Angela nearly hissed as she took another sip of tea.

"I don't know, Mom. She could have picked a better way to do it, but maybe it was time. We were all so tired of having to keep secrets like we were doing something wrong just by being ourselves. I was as mad as anybody at first… But now it's like I'm relieved it happened. No more waiting for the other shoe to drop. No more being afraid of what might be." Peter lifted up one of the letter addressed to him and began to tear it open.

"Dear Mr. Petrelli, you and your 'X-Men' are abominations against God," Peter only read the first sentence aloud before folding the paper into a plane and floating it into the trash. Angela shot him a poisonous glare.

"I have to depart this afternoon for a meeting with the Governor and a few other political allies. Have you given any more thought to the proposal?"

"Not really," Peter said with a sigh. He could deal with the constant clicking of cameras and microphones being shoved in his direction every time he went down the drive to pick up his newspaper, but the prospect of potentially falling into Nathan's old life was the worst consequence that he could think of coming out of all of this.

Nathan. Just the thought of his name was salt in a barely healing wound. Peter had come to terms with his brothers death, and even his killer, but there would always be a part of him that would miss his brother. He was quick to push the thought away and conceal his moment of sadness before his mother could start in on him again.

Angela was never one to let an opportunity go to waste. After the whole of five minutes that it took for her to deal with the idea that their secrets had been outed for good and that there was no cover up to organize or any way to reverse the situation, she immediately went into action, making phone calls and working to protect the Petrelli status quo. It was what she did best.

Now she had it in her mind to maneuver Peter into a kind of ambassadorial position on behalf of their kind. Meetings had been taking place behind closed doors every hour of the day since the event. Committees were being formed, deals were being made, and with any luck a Petrelli would land in a firm seat of power working alongside the American government to create a new state of coexistence between civilians and the apply nicknamed 'Specials'.

"We don't have much time to sit on this, Peter. Someone needs to lead the charge here and you're just as good a candidate as anyone else," Angela moved over to her son and put a tender hand on her son's cheek in the fashion of a doting mother while a sly smile accompanied the gesture. "Nathan was a great leader and now you can be too." She quietly left the room leaving Peter to his thoughts.

* * *

Claire parted her white curtains just enough to glance out the window and was immediately blinded with more camera flashes. Every shade in the house had been drawn to block the views of prying eyes. It left the house feeling so dark and depressing where it had been light and airy in the past.

She hadn't been able to sleep much in the last few weeks, tossing and turning all night to the sounds of voices outside and the mid-morning shift change of the guards. Apparently not even super regenerative powers could save her from the dreaded bags that would form under eyes from sleep deprivation. A knock at her door sent her jumping into her nightstand so that the delicate lamp resting there fell to the floor and smashed into several pieces. She clutched at her chest willing her heart to stop beating so fast as she called, "It's open, Peter."

"Sorry I scared you," he said poking his head into the room. Peter rushed in to help Claire pick up the pieces of her lamp.

"No, no, I'm sorry about this," she said examining her finger as a single drop of blood trailed from an already healing cut where a shard had nicked her. "I'm so sorry. I'll fix it."

"Claire, don't worry about it," Peter said in his assuring manner, taking the shards from her hands and placing them on the table so that he could give her a hug. Peter wasn't just Claire's uncle these days. He had really become her best friend. Even though they had always had a connection, their bond only became stronger with recent events. He always understood what she needed and he was always there with his contagious side smile to cheer her up.

"Still not sleeping?" He asked noting the dark circles under her eyes.

"Not so much. I really kind of wish I hadn't done all this," she said nodding towards the window where camera flashes still pointed towards the curtains.

"Claire, it was going to happen sooner or later. People can't just hide from who they really are forever. At least we're here to make sure that things get handled right this time. There won't be anymore places where people like us are kidnapped or experimented on. It's kind of like we get to see the next civil rights movement or something."

After Claire had taken her dive from the Ferris wheel at the Sullivan Brothers' carnival in front of all of those news cameras and announced to the world that 'Specials' existed and were here to stay for better or worse, she had worried about how Peter would react. Initially he was openly irritated with her, citing that she had no idea what she would be bringing into their lives and quickly whisking her off to the privacy of the Petrelli house. As a little time had worn on though it seemed like he had become genuinely excited about the idea of being able to live out in the open.

"It'll all be okay, Claire. Trust me," he said sharing another hug. "Oh, by the way, Mom's going to be gone for a while so you and I should get out and get some air."

Claire knew what that mischievous little smile of his meant. That first week of seeing so many negative reactions to her revelation had driven her into a bit of a depression and Peter had figured out the best way to relieve that. He had called up her old flame turned friend, West, to borrow his power for flight and then taken Claire for a spin around New York.

Of course pictures of the duo ended up in every paper and film footage to accompany the nightly news, but there was nothing as breath taking as zooming in between all the skyscrapers and feeling the wind whip her hair about.

Suddenly there was a fantastically bright light outside the window followed by screams and a crackling like electricity. All of the lights instantly died, leaving Peter and Claire in the dark. Peter threw the curtains open to see what the ruckus was all about.

"Looks like we found a sure-fire way to get everybody off the lawn," he said darkly with a bit of a frown.

Claire jumped up to see what was happening. She managed to catch a glimpse of the very last of the reporters fleeing his van screaming in terror. Except for the abandoned vehicles the street was suddenly deserted for the first time in ages. She could hear shouting below and followed the sounds.

A man was standing at the edge of the drive facing a dozen guns drawn on him by the security detail. It was hard to see exactly what was going on from the distance but she could make out bolts of blue energy emanating from the man's hands. The guards were all yelling at him to get down but each time he sent just a small charge in one of their directions they would awkwardly skitter backwards in fear causing him to laugh hysterically.

* * *

"It's okay guys. We know him," Peter said waving the guards down and assuring them that it was alright to go back to their postings.

"Aww, why'd you do that? I was going to get one of them shoot me and then laugh at the look on their faces when I got back up!"

"You have a real sick sense of humor sometimes, Sylar."

"You're such a kill joy, Petrelli."

* * *

"So, why are you here, Sylar?" Peter asked pointedly crossing his arms and watching as his somewhat reformed nemesis deposited his trademark black coat over a chair and flipped the TV on with a look.

"My name is Claire Bennett and this is attempt number… I guess I've kind of lost count." Claire's face was on the television showing a rather nasty looking gash in her cheek healing before the eyes of the world.

The clip of her exploit cut to a news anchor, "Since the 'Great Revelation' hundreds of cases of these real life 'X-Men' have poured out across the air waves sparking numerous controversies among the public. How are we to deal with 'super powers' in our every day lives? What kind of new dangers does this pose to people who don't have 'powers' and how are these dangers to be taken care of? Many are fearful that these persons will have a cataclysmic effect on our world, ranging from controlling our thoughts to manipulating the economy. When we come back we'll have a few words from the consulate delegates meeting today on Capitol Hill." The curt blonde anchor woman was then replaced with a sing-song commercial for some kind of laundry detergent.

"Word has it that they're going to be forming a new official government branch to deal with us since typical policing methods aren't really equipped for it. You seem to be the guy to ask about it."

Peter was to lost in thought for the moment to answer any of Sylar's questions. He shouldn't be surprised at all that so many people were worried about dangerous powers walking the streets unchecked. After all, he did have an ex-serial killer currently standing feet away from him.

He knew about the plans for the new government institutions. It was all a part of his mother's schemes. She had told him that the best way to insure their survival was to make it clear that public interests would be addressed. They would develop a new task force that would allow 'Special' people like them to live freely as they would have before but also take care of anybody that didn't obey the rules of society that everyone else was subject to. No telepathically cheating anyone out of their account numbers or phasing through the walls of banks. No mind controlling the stock markets or fire starters threatening schools full of children. And most of all, no people like Sylar getting away with murder.

It would all be like a new and improved Company, but without the 'bagging and tagging' or cruel experimentations. And even the dangerous 'Specials' could have their rights protected. There was a real opportunity for everyone to live together peacefully and if he just spoke the word Peter could be the leader that made it all happen.

Peter could hear Sylar rooting through the kitchen down the hall. Even though he knew the house's layout fairly well from his stint as a fellow Petrelli, Peter couldn't help but be slightly unnerved about Sylar's comfort here. Reformed or not, he was still Sylar.

Claire was descending the stairs from her room as Sylar stepped out of the kitchen with a fresh soda in each hand.

"What the hell do you want?" she snapped at him venomously.

"You," he said with a cruel smile.

"Peter!" Claire screamed running into his waiting arms beside the television.

"Oh, come on, Claire! It was a joke!" Sylar called after her walking back into the room.

"Peter, what the hell is he doing here?" She asked imploring him with her wide blue eyes.

"We were just talking, Claire. It's okay-" The return of the news program cut his reply short and they all turned to watch the developments.

"We are currently working on new legislation that will form the basis of a law system for these people with special abilities. These laws will make sure that all Americans, those with 'powers' or not will be able to live in the best equality that we can manage at this time.

This is only the first round of laws that we'll be creating. We plan to keep a close eye on the situation and make changes as we go. All of your representatives are working tirelessly to make sure the needs of the public are being taken care of on these issues and we're all really doing the best the we can under such circumstances. Thank you, we'll be taking questions in a moment," the Congressman stepped away from his podium to speak with some of the men standing behind him.

Sylar tossed Peter one of the sodas he had been holding and smirked at Claire. "This is all thanks to you. It's a brave new world," and with that Sylar tipped his drink in her direction.

* * *

Rain drops spattered the windows of the limo as Claire, Peter and Angela were on their way to the ceremony that would formalize the new lifestyles for people like them. Peter had been excited, Angela had kept a stiff drink near her side, and all Claire could think about was how much she wanted to take it all back now. She couldn't even say why exactly, other than the sickening feeling of regret that lumped in her stomach. The newly found and unwanted media attention didn't help matters for her. And having a snoring Sylar removed from the downstairs sofa wouldn't hurt her feelings any… She still couldn't understand why Peter allowed him to stick around or had the crazed notion that he really could be different.

Yesterday Claire had called Hiro, one of their super powered acquaintances that could bend time and space. She had attempted to persuade him to travel back in time and find a way to stop her from jumping off of that damn Ferris wheel and exposing them all, but all she got out of him was something about a rule and not going back in time for personal reasons. It was hard to understand what all he was saying when he would randomly break into Japanese. After about fifteen minutes of listening to a rant that she couldn't even interpret she had given up and said good bye.

Claire and Angela sat in a front row of the expectant audience watching as several officials came forward to give speeches. Then came the part where Peter stepped forward, shook a few hands for the cameras and then added his signature to a document that would forever change their worlds.

Angela stood and clapped and even mustered a tear for a photographer. Claire could only imagine what her face would like in that picture as she stood quietly in the background wondering exactly how her grandmother had bullied Peter into this job.

Somewhere behind her screams started echoing from the hallway. She could hear frantic footsteps and then an uproar began in the chamber they were in. Everyone turned to see the commotion. Claire felt her heart skip a beat.

A man had marched his way into the event with a belt a explosives strapped around his chest and waist. Security pulled their guns just to have them thrown out of reach by an invisible force… And then the guns, floating in mid air began shooting randomly into the crowd of their own accord. Civilians began to fall one by one, bleeding out on the floor. The screams were so loud and Claire was frozen in place with her heart feeling like it would pop out of her chest at any moment. She willed her legs to move, to do something, anything, but it was like the same force taking over the guards' firearms was also working to keep her in place.

Peter had jumped down from the stage to help some of the fallen people only to meet one of the floating guns face to face. Claire screamed and shut her eyes tight as the gun fired at Peter from point blank range.

"No! No, no, no, no, please… Please, I don't want to hurt anybody…"

Claire couldn't keep her eyes closed that tightly forever. Whatever will it was that had urged her to throw herself in harm's way to save others in the past came from deep inside of her. And now that will, the thing that only a few select people in this world possess, was fighting it's way through her. She had to open her eyes. She had to find a way to help Peter. And she had to… figure out what was going on…

They were all still in the limo, safe and sound. Rain droplets still tapped at the glass. Angela sat straight up next to her with a noticeably deep inhaling of breath like she had been startled. It was only then that Claire noticed that her grandmother's hand had been touching hers before.

The two women looked at each other and then to Peter sitting across from them, and then back to each other.

"What?" Peter asked innocently.


	2. Chapter 2

New Enemies, Old Tricks

Chapter Two

When the limo pulled up to the building where the ceremony and signings were to take place Peter glanced out the window apprehensively, with his hand reluctantly on the door. After deciding that they had somehow shared the same precognitive dream, Angela and Claire relayed to him what they had seen happen.

He had been silent the whole time, listening to their story with eyes wide open. Now he sat with furrowed brows, deep in thought chewing on his lower lip. He nearly jumped out of his skin when two hands banged on the window of his door.

It was Hiro Nakamura pressing his face against the glass. "Mr. Petrelli! I have come to warn you!" Two of the body guards standing by for the event rushed over to him and began to drag Hiro away from the car. "No! Mr. Petrelli must hear what I have to say!" he cried through his thick Japanese accent.

Peter had almost gotten the door of the limo opened when two small hands grabbed his shoulder from behind. "Mr. Petrelli, please listen," Hiro said from the seat next to his. Time had been frozen outside the car, people standing still in their positions. The two guards that had attempted to take Hiro away now stood amusingly empty handed.

"Hello, hello," Hiro greeted Angela and Claire with a wide smile and a slight bow for each.

"Hello," they both replied simultaneously, a little surprised by what had just happened even though they had both been previously aware of Hiro's ability.

"Mr. Petrelli, I have just come from the future and now I must warn you!" he said emphatically. "A bad man, very bad man is coming! He wants to hurt you all!"

"Yeah, I just heard," Peter said darkly with a gesture to his niece and mother.

"Okay so how do we stop it?" Claire asked openly. Everyone in the car seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Hiro, I think I have an idea," Peter finally said with some enthusiasm. The little Japanese man pushed his glasses back up onto his nose, waiting expectantly. Peter was careful to add, "But I don't think you're going to like it. I don't think any of you will." He eyed Claire especially.

* * *

Hiro was extremely reluctant to follow Peter's idea. But with a little prodding he had finally agreed.

"How exactly is having Sylar here going to help anything?" Claire demanded, clearly annoyed.

"Look, if we're about to face a human bomb with serious telekinetic abilities it wouldn't hurt to fight fire with a little fire," Peter said still studying the people frozen outside the car. Claire just glared back at him with her arms crossed defiantly. Angela had remained silent, once again wearing that tight lipped frown.

She had already made it quite clear that she wasn't happy about having Sylar anywhere near their picture, let alone in it, but she had tolerated his recent presence in their lives. She and Peter had argued incessantly about him. Peter would insist that Sylar was indeed a changed man and routinely relate his experience with him in the nightmare that Matt Parker had trapped him in. Angela could only remember all the atrocities the villain had committed against her family.

Claire was under the impression that the only reason Angela hadn't completely put her foot down and banned Sylar from being anywhere near her home or family was because she was also leaning on Peter to take the political position she had so closely coveted for him. Whatever it took to see her future through was what she would do. Even if she hated it.

Suddenly Hiro was back in the car in the seat next to Peter and Sylar had landed in an unbalanced half standing position between the two seats. He quickly lost his fight with gravity and toppled over, right into Claire's lap.

She screeched and repeatedly slapped at him until he rolled over into an awkward sitting position between Claire and Angela. "Morning ladies," he said looking from one to the other. "So, anyone mind explaining why I just got kidnapped by an angry Japanese guy when I was in the middle of my Star Trek marathon?"

"Whoa, check this out," Sylar said pointing out the window to the frozen people. "You're lucky I'm one of the good guys now, Hiro, because that is one nifty little ability you have there."

Hiro scoffed quietly to himself and looked in any direction but Sylar's. Peter quickly laid out the situation, while Sylar stared quizzically at Claire.

"There's something different about you…" he said, sweeping a lock of her hair from her face and placing it behind her ear. She shuddered at his touch but he didn't even seem to notice.

"Hey, focus!" Peter snapped his fingers at Sylar from across the limo.

"Yeah, yeah… human bomb… people dying. I got the picture," Sylar mumbled. "I can't quite place it, but there is definitely something different about you…" He almost whispered into Claire's ear. She snorted with disgust and stormed out of the car and past the time-stopped people to the stairs of the building. Angela gave Sylar an equally disgusted look before following Claire's path.

"Uh oh, mommy dearest doesn't like me anymore," he groaned with heavy sarcasm. "So, what exactly am I supposed to do about all of this?"

"You want to be a hero now don't you? This is your chance," Peter said with a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

* * *

"Are all of the civilians evacuated now?" Peter asked the head of security as he pulled on his suit jacket.

"Yes sir. I'm afraid I still don't understand what all this is about. If there was a threat made we should postpone the event and launch an investigation."

"That won't be necessary. My people have it covered," Peter said gently patting the man on the shoulder. "We also need all of your security detail to evacuate the area. We don't want to risk anybody's lives today."

"Yes sir," the man said scratching his head and walking away.

Claire watched as Peter combed his hair back and finished preparing for the signing. Maybe Angela was right. Maybe Peter did have what it took to lead people, the way Nathan had.

There was a stinging memory. Claire had only known her biological father for a few years before he died, and even though they had had more than their fare share of arguments and completely dysfunctional moments, she had come to love him. Now she was being forced to play nice with his killer…

"Alright the stage is set," Sylar walked into the room that Peter had been using for an impromptu dressing area. He pulled on a formal looking suit jacket as well and started to tie his tie when he turned to Claire with a devilish grin. "A little help here?" he asked motioning at the tie draping around his neck.

He seemed just a bit surprised when Claire actually got up and took hold of the tie. That brief moment ended though when she began to purposefully tie it entirely to tight and choked off his air supply. Sylar coughed a few times and sent a lingering gaze her direction as she left the room.

"You remember what to do?" Peter asked as he looked at Sylar looking after his niece.

"Yeah. I got it," Sylar said with a grin, morphing into the man whose hand Peter was supposed to shake for the cameras before signing the bill that would officially activate his position. Sylar studied himself in the mirror with his new face for a moment. "Shape shifting was certainly not the worst ability I ever picked up. It's very handy."

"So what was the worst one you ever got?" Peter asked playfully.

"The ability to know the complete history of any object I touch. Gotta have a strong stomach for that one. You wouldn't believe how gross some people can be."

* * *

The event started to play out just as Claire had dreamed that it would, minus the audience and that she was being moved from a spectator's position to that of camera man so that the press would still get their shots and never know that anything had gone wrong. She and Hiro were very careful to keep the shots focused on Peter and the man that Sylar was pretending to be, hoping that no one would ever notice how empty the chamber actually was.

After Peter signed the document with a smile Claire panned over to Angela, standing and clapping. It was all playing out. They all turned to see a very confused and frightened man with explosives taped around his chest and waist.

"No! No, no, no, no, please… Please, I don't want to hurt anybody…" The bomber was mumbling incoherently with his eyes clenched shut.

"If you don't want to hurt anyone, why are you pretending to be the world's biggest firecracker?" Sylar asked with what Claire thought to be a disturbing amount of concern for the man. He approached the man slowly with his hands held up to show that he wasn't a threat.

"Please, help me… I don't want to do this… I don't want to be here…" The bomber started to cry.

"Okay, okay," Sylar continued to approach the bomber. "Tell us what happened to you."

"Hiro, do your thing," Peter directed from the stage. Hiro blinked and froze the bomber in time. "I need you to take my mother and Claire away from here," Peter continued to direct as he walked up to where Sylar was examining the explosives.

"No, I'm staying here," Claire declared obstinately joining the two men. Peter started to argue but after seeing the determination written all over her face he knew it would be pointless.

Hiro put a hand on Angela's shoulder and with the power of the scrunchy face, they were gone.

"Do you think you can deactivate it, Sylar?"

"Not without blowing us all up. See this?" He pointed out a small black box with several wires leading to and from it, "There's a fail safe in there. If any of these wires are disconnected it'll blow. But… I think I can remove it from the guy so that we can get rid of it before that happens." Sylar morphed back into himself and wiggled his fingers like he was testing their precision.

"I don't think he's our bad guy either…" Sylar said looking up from the bomb and into the sad eyes of the man.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's our telekinetic and all, but he's not in control of his powers. I think someone else is making him do this remotely."

"How can you tell all this?" Claire asked a little more sharply than intended.

"Mohinder called it 'intuitive aptitude'. I can figure out how just about anything works." He added with a tinge of sadness while looking into her eyes, "It's the only power that's really mine."

"You guys might want to get back just in case," Sylar threw over his shoulder as he began to dismantle the belts securing the explosives. Claire and Peter both watched in awe as he used his abilities to gingerly sever the tape straps from the man's body. It would have gone smoothly had Hiro's time stopping power picked a more convenient time to wear off. Sylar was only half way done with his work when the man suddenly jumped back to life and began quivering in fear again.

"Claire, I need you to come here for a second please."

Claire cautiously approached the bomber in the same fashion that Sylar had, with her hands up.

"Please, please help me. I just want to go home," the man sobbed, shaking the equipment that Sylar had already detached and threatening to make the whole situation much more unstable.

"Claire, I need you to very carefully hold these two top pieces just off his shoulders so that he doesn't disturb them. I would do it myself but I can't hold all of this together and keep him still at the same time." Claire quietly nodded did as asked.

Once he had completely severed the front pieces Sylar started to circle around the back pieces that Claire was holding up. She started to move but he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in position.

"Whatever you do, don't move," he whispered into her ear as he reached around her body to continue his work.

She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and the heat from his body radiating out to hers. It sent a chill up her spine the way his face was right next to hers and his hands guided themselves around her hips. She looked over at Peter and found him watching intently but not seeming to notice the full scope of what was happening.

Sylar's hands moved up to her shoulders again and out over her arms to her hands, clasping them with a gentleness she didn't know he had.

"Don't get to excited, Claire. I'm just making sure you keep this stable while he steps out of it," he said catching a glimpse of the expression on her face.

The bomber took two careful steps forward and was released from the apparatus. He fell to the floor spouting thank yous to them all. And then there was Claire and Sylar frozen together in what could be considered a compromising position had it been taken out of context. His body practically pressed up against hers, their arms and fingers entwined. She stole a sideways glance at him only to find his intent brown eyes looking back her.

"You connected to Angela's dream earlier, didn't you?" He asked, his breath hitting her neck and sending another chill down her spine.

"Yeah, how did you -" his smirk cut her off.

"I knew there was something different here. Something changed when that happened. Maybe something that was already there, but had never developed before."

Standing here with Sylar made Claire feel like a thousand volts of electricity were continuously running the full length of her body. She knew he must have been using some kind of power of her because for whatever reason she was also finding it temporarily impossible to find him as repulsive as she normally would have.

"Are you saying I can dream the future now?"

"No. Just saying that there's potential there. You may not be a one-trick-wonder after all." And with that he stepped away from her and gathered the explosive device from her hands. "Peter, fly this somewhere safe real quick. Be very careful not to jostle it around either."

As soon as Peter returned they started questioning the man about what had happened.

"I don't know how this happened. I was just on my way to work at the hospital and everything was fine. And then I was here with a bomb strapped to me! I swear I don't remember anything except hearing this strange voice."

"What did the voice tell you to do?"

"It wasn't really like that. It wasn't really talking to me or anything. It was just like it was controlling my-" The would be bomber seemed to be having an episode of some kind. His eyes rolled backward and his whole body trembled for a moment. Blood started to stream from his eyes, nose and ears before he just went limp and fell over.

Peter checked for a pulse but shook his head. The man was dead and the three of them just looked from each other to the body and back again with equal puzzlement.


	3. Chapter 3

Parts of a Whole

Chapter Three

The ride back to the Petrelli house was surreal to say the least. The trio sat quietly, each deep in their own thoughts about what had just happened. How does an ordinary guy on his way to work suddenly find himself acting as a human bomb with the intent to kill hundreds of people and no idea of how it came be. And further more, how does one such man just mysteriously drop dead. It was pretty obvious to everyone at this point that outside forces were at work, but all the who's, how's and why's were missing from the big picture.

As troubling as the earlier scene had been for Claire, she had reluctantly become distracted by thoughts of Sylar and how close he had been to her before. She wanted desperately to push the thoughts away into some dark corner of her mind where she would never have to touch them again but the second they were almost there, the memory came rushing back at her with a vengeance.

It was like she could still feel his body next to hers. She remembered what it was like to feel his hands on her and his breath on her neck. As if those thoughts weren't bad enough, they started morphing into other things, not a memory of what had really happened, but like some sick fantasy that belonged to another person and only happened to end up in her head.

Instead of just standing next to her, working on a bomb, the world of reality faded away and it was only them. Instead of just barely touching her, Sylar's hands were freely exploring. Claire could feel his lips tracing their way from her shoulder to her neck sending a pleasant kind of shiver through her. He spun her around and took hold of her hips, gripping her tightly to him. Their mouths parted only for air and she couldn't resist.

Somehow, she didn't want to. It was all so intensely realistic that she could feel their body heat rising together. The way his stomach felt next to hers and how his arms held her so close…

Sylar kept catching little sideways glances from Claire. She looked so pale and made little throat noises like she was gagging. He had just helped save who knows how many people from certain disaster and she still couldn't stand to look at him. He silently mused that she was probably looking for some way to blame him for what that man had done.

Unfortunately, mind control was a trick that Sylar had never picked up. That talent had certainly made it's way onto the list of 'to do's', but he had never managed to get around to it. To bad. He would have liked to use it right now to make her quit looking at him that way. She was distracting.

But then again she was always distracting. Maybe it was the way her silky blonde hair fell around her face, or those big blue eyes that pierced like daggers into whatever it was that people like him had instead of a soul. Or, maybe it was just the way that she was one of the few people on the planet that could successfully kill him. Claire was a piece that Sylar had never fully figured out.

He could never really expect her to forgive him after all the things he had done to her, and her family, but was it really to much to ask that she at least recognize that he was attempting to behave himself? A smile crept into the corners of his mouth as he thought about that. It would be better if he didn't try to figure her out. A little mystery went a long way.

Peter had been running through a list of anyone he had run into with remotely the sort of power it would take to force a person into becoming a suicide bomber. So far the only name he could come up with was Sylar and he knew better than that. Why would Sylar create a bomb only to turn around and disarm it in order to save everybody.

Peter thought he caught a rather disturbing look being shared between Sylar and Claire just then. Sylar had always had a certain fascination with her. What if he had actually set up that entire scene just to look like a hero in her eyes? But then again, how would he know that Hiro was going to come for him…

"I heard that," Sylar mumbled under his breath, looking back out the window.

"Heard what?" Peter and Claire asked simultaneously before trading worried glances.

"Get your head out of that train of thought, Peter. I didn't do it."

"Get your head out of my head, Sylar."

"Stop thinking so loud."

An image started to form in the back of Peter's mind. It didn't seem to be his, but it was still there. He didn't quite get what it was that he was seeing at first. The idea was oddly cloudy, like a transmission that had interference of some sort.

Claire… Sylar…

Peter suddenly grabbed his temples in agony.

"Claire!" he yelled over the piercing screams in his head. "Claire, what's wrong? Why are you screaming like that?"

"Peter, she's not screaming. You are," Sylar said, leaning forward.

Peter tried to focus through the shrieking. But it couldn't be all in his head. Sylar's eyes had changed. They weren't the eyes of the new Sylar anymore. They were the dead shark eyes of the murderer. The depths of the blackness were pulling him in.

"Peter, you're bleeding."

Claire's hand grabbed his and it all stopped. They were just sitting in the car normally, quietly. Peter reached a hand up to his nose and saw a small stream of bright red blood when he pulled his fingers back to look.

* * *

"I'll need to be departing again this afternoon, Peter," Angela mentioned for the third time with increasing volume. He was so distracted today.

"My plane is leaving in an hour."

"Okay, Mom." Peter finally snapped out of his trance. He helped her pull her coat on and exchanged a kiss on the cheek with her.

"I'll be back tomorrow evening if all goes well. And Peter, don't do anything… strange while I'm gone," she added with a knowing look as she headed through the door.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Peter said to himself after she was gone.

* * *

"Is that waffles?" Peter asked sniffing the air as he entered the kitchen.

The radio was blaring in the background. "In local news, the controversial legal case against Doctor Greenwalt took an unexpected twist today following his death. The family of one of his patients had been insisting on the Doctor allowing them to take their son off of life support. The boy in question has been in a coma for well over four years now-" Sylar flicked a finger at the radio to shut it off.

"Blueberry," Sylar said with a grin. "Recipe I learned a few months ago," he said it with enthusiasm but he couldn't hide the twinge of sadness when he thought about it. "Claire should get something to eat. She's been skulking around her room all morning."

* * *

"Claire," Peter gently knocked on her door. "Claire, why don't you come down for breakfast now." He opened the door just enough to poke his head inside. It was eerily quiet and there was no Claire to be found. He was about to leave when he caught a glimpse of a foot peeking out from the other side of her bed.

"Claire?" Peter walked into the room with a feeling of dread welling up in his gut. He had to clasp his hand to his mouth to stifle a yelp. Claire was lying in a pool of blood on the floor of her room, lifeless, eyes glazed over, with a pair of scissors plunged deep into her chest. Peter rushed over to her and pulled the scissors out. He waited for her come back, the way she always did. He held her head in his lap, kissing her forehead, pleading with her to come back. The tears couldn't be restrained.

"Sylar!" Peter cried as he ran back down the stairs. "Sylar, what have you done!"

"What are you talking about, Peter? It wouldn't happen to be this would it?" Sylar said with a menacing twinkle in his eyes as he held up a bloody pair of scissors. Peter lunged across the kitchen, tackling Sylar and hitting him as hard and fast as he could.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Claire's voice came from behind him. He stopped his fist in mid air, turning to look at her. She was standing in her bath robe with a towel over her hair, alive, healthy except for the increasingly dark circles under her eyes, and not a speck of blood in sight.

"Oh, thank God, Claire, you're alright," Peter said with complete relief as he dashed across the kitchen to scoop her up in a hug.

"I take it, waffles are a no around here," Sylar mentioned getting up from the floor with a big wooden spoon in his hand where Peter had seen the bloody scissors before. He wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth and grimaced as the wounds that Peter's hands had inflicted began to heal.

"Blueberry!" Claire said with a big smile, grabbing a plate.

* * *

"There's something wrong with me," Peter said darkly, poking pieces of waffle around his plate.

"I could have told you that," Sylar remarked with a smirk.

"I'm serious. I think I'm seeing things that aren't real. And yesterday in the car…" Peter set his fork down and looked off into space.

"I think I've been seeing things too, Peter." Claire said darkly. They both looked at Sylar, expecting him to say something along the same lines. He just looked back at them blankly with his mouth full.

"Maybe we should all get out and do something fun. We've been cooped up since the carnival. Tensions are starting to get to people."

"Did Sylar just say something that made sense?" Claire said with a devious smile.

"Ha ha little girl," Sylar said mocking back.

* * *

The trio had spent a seemingly normal day touring the nearby shopping mall. The guys had laughed and poked fun together while Claire tried on new clothes. They had seen an early showing of a new movie about some super hero and threw bits of popcorn when it wasn't realistic. They had gorged themselves on Chinese in the food court. Even with Sylar there, everyone had had a blast getting out of the house.

"I'm going to go check out the bookstore for a minute. I'll be right back," Peter said hopping up from his seat.

"Good idea. There's a place I've been meaning to check out too," Sylar added getting up as well. He tossed a look over his shoulder at Claire, still sitting there. "Did you want to tag along or are you okay by yourself for a few minutes?" he asked with a touch of genuine caring.

"I'll be fine. There's some stuff that I wanted to look at too," she said mustering the most sincere smile she could manage.

* * *

Peter couldn't help but feel like things were a little off inside the bookstore. There wasn't anything that could really be considered strange going on, but the people all seemed empty somehow. They were like zombies going through the motions. He told himself to ignore it. He had been vividly hallucinating recently and this was probably just another symptom of whatever was going wrong with him. He headed straight for a back section thinking he would pick up the book he had wanted and get out as quickly as possible. But fate had a different plan.

When Peter reached the section he needed to be in and turned a corner looking for the right book he found a man standing there rigidly. Peter stopped dead in his tracks, just watching the other person, knowing that something really was wrong here. The man began to repeatedly slam his own face into the bookshelf with an impressive amount of force. Peter walked up to him cautiously and put a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Sir, are you okay?" he asked with hesitation. The man just continued to bash his head into the shelves, sending books toppling to the floor.

"Sir, please stop. I might be able to help-"

The man did stop. He turned his bloody broken face to look at Peter.

"Help?" he rasped, bloody gurgling in his mouth. "This is all your fault!" the strange man proclaimed pointing a finger into Peter's face.

Peter started backing up, startled and unsure of what he should do. The man lurched forward, slowly following Peter with his finger outstretched, rasping, "Your fault!" over and over. Peter tried to make a run for it, tripping over a book and landing on his face. He jumped up and made to continue his dash for freedom, only to be confronted with more strange people. There was a wall of them, just standing there, blank.

"Your fault!" they all began to chant in unison, pointing bony fingers at Peter and closing ranks around him. Peter panicked and just ran through them, knocking a few women over in the process. He hit the entry way joining the store to the rest of the mall but found himself to be alone when he got outside. The rest of the mall looked deserted.

* * *

On the other side of the mall Claire had decided to return to the clothing stores. She walked the isles running her fingers over silky dress shirts until she found one she thought she would like to have. She was feeling the sleeve and admiring the cut of a nice black button up number when she noticed two women a few racks over eyeing her. They were whispering conspiratorially together, one of them jerking her thumb in Claire's direction.

Claire was getting used to being treated this way but still couldn't believe how rude some people could be. "Would you like to take a picture, ladies?" she called over to them a little bitterly. The women said a few hushed sentences to one another and then headed in her direction.

"You're the freak from the news," the tall brunette croaked at her.

"That would be me." Claire put her hands on her hips, making it clear that she wasn't going to flinch. The two women started circling her, like predators stalking their prey.

"You people are all freaks," the brunette croaked again.

"You don't belong here," the sunny little blonde soccer mom chimed in. "You people don't belong around us. You're all dangerous and we don't want you here."

Claire rolled her eyes. She had faced super powered murderers before as well as being a cheerleader. She knew these tactics and had to snort at the thought that they really believed they could scare her.

"Well I guess it's a good thing I don't really give a damn what you want," Claire snapped with a little venom of her own.

She was only expecting another snotty remark though. Claire had never anticipated that the women might become physically violent. The brunette swept off a metal display shelf and unhinged it while she was behind Claire and then she swung the object as hard as she could at the back of Claire's head. She landed hard on the cold floor. She heard her wrist snap in that familiar way and an intense throbbing vibrated from where she had been hit.

"Do you care now, freak?" the soccer mom hissed as she started kicking Claire in the ribs with all her might. The brunette brought the metal shelf down hard on Claire's shoulder, causing another sharp snapping sound. She winced in pain and tried to put her hands up as a shield to protect herself against another attack. The blonde sent a tiny foot crashing through her mouth, dislocating her jaw.

Claire moved quick to yank the brunette's feet out from under her before she could take another swing. The woman fell backward into one of the clothing racks, gashing her face open along the way. Claire made a grab for the shelf and swung it at the soccer mom, sending her crumpling to the floor. Claire spit out blood onto the tile floor and wiggled a tooth back into place.

She groaned as she pushed her shoulder back into the socket so that it could heal. When she looked up from that chore though, there more women to greet her. She was surrounded by an angry mob of sweater-wearing, cookie-baking suburban house wives and soccer moms.

* * *

Sylar had never even made it to the shop he had wanted to visit. He had been noticing something very wrong about the people he was passing. Only an hour ago everyone had been energetic and full of life. Now they were all sullenly shuffling along with emptiness in their eyes.

He grabbed a passerby and looked them square in the face. There was no fear, no anger, not even shock at his abrupt motion. Sylar let the person go and decided to head back to where he had left Claire. They could find Peter together and get the hell out of this place before anything really strange started to happen.

When Sylar reached the food court there was no Claire in sight. He tried to think hard of where she might have gone. One of the clothing stores across the way caught his eye. They had been in there earlier and there was a shirt that Claire had wanted to get, but Peter had thought it was a little to sexy for her.

Sylar couldn't stop the smirk. To sexy. No such thing.

He jaunted over to the section he remembered and heard a struggle on the other side of the dressing rooms. When he found Claire she was buried beneath a mob of crazed women all striking at her from every direction. She screamed and even over the sounds of the fight Sylar could hear bone cracking. The dark side of him that he was always working to suppress these days started bubbling to the surface like a black stream of boiling hate.

Claire's attackers started flying up, sticking to the ceiling but still dementedly screeching obscenities and trying to claw their way back to her. When enough of the deranged women were pulled away from Claire she squirmed over to Sylar. He saw how black and blue her whole body was, her face swollen and pushed out of place beyond recognition, her clothes and been tore apart and her blood splattered every surface for a few yards around the scene. He knew she would heal and be back to normal in a few minutes, but he couldn't stop the darkness from spilling over inside of himself anymore.

"Run," he told her, his eyes turning cold and dead the way they did before he murdered someone. A telekinetic wind picked up around them, turning into a screaming vortex, lifting everything but Sylar and Claire into it's grasp. Bolts of dazzling blue lightning crackled from his fingers. He was going to kill them all. And he was going to enjoy it.

"Sylar," Claire was still standing there in front of him. She put her soft blood stained hands on his face forcing him to look at her. "Sylar, you don't have to do this. You can stop it," she said sweetly. Her baby blues were shredding their way through the darkness to reach him, wherever he had gone.

"Gabrielle."

With that name he snapped out of it. The miniature lightning storm receded and the winds dissipated, bringing everything that had been flying through the vortex around them crashing into the floor and walls. He took her hands from his face and clutched them in his own, just over his heart. The moment was brief and he knew that it might make things confusing or awkward later. But it was a moment.

A second passed and their eyes unlocked. He turned and found the black top she had been looking at earlier and tossed it to her. The gesture almost seemed endearing at first until Claire looked down and realized that the top she was currently wearing had been ripped to tatters and was failing to conceal much of anything. Embarrassment flooded through her system. Sylar had turned his back to her in an uncharacteristic gentlemanly manner but she could tell he was smiling ear to ear and the back of his neck was flushing as red as she felt.

"We should go find Peter," she mentioned, signaling Sylar that it was okay to turn around again.

"Maybe he was right." Sylar's eyes hugged the curves of the black top. "That shirt is to much for you," he said with a low whistle.

It wasn't to hard to find Peter. Outside of the clothing department there was no one to be found. They all reunited in the center of the mall. Peter ran to hug Claire and asked if they were alright. They each recounted to one another about their experiences apart and quickly agreed to leave.

"Claire… that shirt…" Peter said when he finally realized what she was wearing. Claire thought his eyes would pop out of his head before he put his jacket around her.

"I got that for her," Sylar sing-songed, still grinning.

* * *

The ride home wasn't much better than the mall excursion. People everywhere were being affected by some unseen force. If they weren't shambling along with blank expressions they were doing things that no sane person would ever seriously consider doing of their own accord.

Random fights were breaking out in the streets. Road side windows were being broken. Fires were being set. One car apparently couldn't back out of its parking space so it just repeatedly rammed the cars on either side of it. The whole world seemed to be spiraling out of control.

Sylar had stayed plastered to one of the grand windows facing the drive since they had gotten home. Claire was tucked under Peter's arm on the couch watching the TV while it was on mute, drifting in and out of consciousness.

"At least we know it isn't just us anymore," Sylar remarked.

"What if it's some kind of infection?" Peter half mused to himself.

"I don't think the whole of New York could succumb to rabies in a few hours," Sylar replied.

"What if this _is_ some kind of infection?" Claire was suddenly wide awake. "What if someone like us is behind it? What if that bomber yesterday was only the beginning?"

"If that's the case and there is someone out there with that much power, it's not a question of if, but when we turn into them," Sylar said nodding at the window.

* * *

Sylar had started making rounds around the house, checking the security of the locks and staying vigilant for any possible threat from the outside world. What Claire had brought up earlier made a lot of sense out of a chaotic situation and that worried him more than he was willing to show.

"Gabrielle?' The combination of that name and hearing it being spoken by Claire of all people was nearly enough to drive him from his skin. He turned around to see her standing a few feet back, her face unreadable.

"Why did you come to stay here?" she asked, crossing the distance between them.

Sylar had to stop and think about it for a moment. "I don't actually know. It just seemed like the thing to do."

Claire reached out to him and for a second Sylar was scared that she wanted to hold his hand for some reason. Instead she took his arm in her hands, holding it out before herself. It wasn't really him she was interested in. It was that damn tattoo, exposed to the world now because he had changed into a T-shirt that wasn't coated in Claire's blood.

One of the last times that Sylar had visited the Sullivan Brothers' carnival he had been looking for answers. He found what he had been searching for there thanks to some future telling ink. Unfortunately, Claire's face was indelibly stuck to his forearm from then on.

He braced himself for whatever rude comment was about to escape her lips, but there was none. She just looked away for a moment, brows furrowed with thought and dropped his arm as she walked away.

* * *

"Dude, seriously?" Peter gave Sylar an incredulous look as he plopped down onto the couch.

"What?"

"I can't pretend that it's not creepy having you walk around here with my niece's face on your arm like that. Can't you get it removed or something?"

"Gee, I'm sorry Peter but I just don't think laser treatments are quite up to the task of magic fortune telling ink," Sylar snorted.

"Peter, why did you let Sylar here?" Claire marched back into the TV room where Peter was glued to the screen.

"Not now, Claire. I'm trying to get updates on what's going on."

"No, seriously think about it, Peter. Exactly what was your reasoning for letting him stay here?" she demanded.

He did stop to think about it for a long moment. "I don't really know. Why does it matter?"

"Because Sylar's right. We are going to turn into those people out there. We're already infected."

Peter was completely confused now.

"Think about it. He doesn't really know why he's here. You don't know why he's here. I don't know why I'm making nice with him. We're all doing stuff that doesn't make any sense."

"It has been a while since you've threatened to kill each other…"


	4. Chapter 4

Descent Into Chaos

Chapter Four

"Hey, Claire," Sylar called from the couch, not bothering to look in her direction when she came to answer.

"What?"

"How much do you trust me?"

"Not at all."

"Is that enough to let me poke around in your brain again?"

"You already have my power, Sylar. There's nothing left for you to see."

"It's not so much about seeing, as tweaking," he said finally looking to see what her reaction would be like. "I've been sitting here thinking and I think I can help you. "

She hadn't stormed off or gotten in a huff yet which told Sylar that even if she wasn't interested, she was curious. "The whole time I've known you, you've had this great ability to heal. But, you don't have a lot of luck when it comes to defending yourself."

"Get to the point, Sylar."

"If we're going to go crazy or lose control or whatever it is that's happening to those people outside then there's a good chance that you're going to have to defend yourself… from us," he said motioning from himself to Peter and back again.

Claire had never thought of that possibility before and now that it was firmly lodged in her mind it was a pretty terrifying notion. "I'm not like you guys though. I can't just absorb whatever powers I want. I've only ever had my regeneration and I don't know what you think you can do about that."

"I think that what's been happening to us has somehow triggered a change in your power. It probably never would have happened otherwise, but I think you have potential to use more than just the healing."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Worst case scenario - you have a bad hair day."

* * *

"Are you sure you that you really want to do this, Claire?" Peter asked clearly concerned about the sight of Sylar spreading plastic over the dining table. "You don't have to let him do this."

"I can't explain it but I feel like he might be right. I'm tired of always running away and being scared all the time. If we change…"

Peter's face turned dark at the coming thought. Claire struggled for the right words to explain what was going through her mind. "If he changes… He's right. I'm going to have to be able to defend myself." She put a soft reassuring hand on his, giving a small smile.

"Besides, I know he can't hurt me if you're here." Just a slight smile peeked out from the corner of his worried mouth.

"Is the patient ready?" Sylar asked rubbing his hands together like a comic book villain.

"This doesn't look sterile," Peter said looking at the rough sheet of clear plastic. "Shouldn't you at least be wearing gloves or something?"

"Germs? I'm about to saw into your niece's brain and germs are all you can think about?"

Peter winced.

"Well, if that's all it takes to kill the cheerleader, I should have sneezed on her years ago."

She couldn't help it. Claire had to stifle a giggle about the ridiculous image her brain conjured to accompany that thought. Feeling the cold of the plastic against her skin she was careful not to slip off while she swung her legs over the table and laid down, placing her hands at her sides.

Now the terror of what was really about to happen began to seep through veins. Her heart started pounding wildly, remembering how it had been the last time Sylar cracked her skull. She had to close her eyes tight as she moved those thoughts out of the way.

It wasn't so long ago that he had broken into her home, hunted her down and taken what he'd wanted. When he had left her just sitting there, afterward, she had broken down in uncontrollable sobs, almost feeling like she had been raped in a way.

Sylar smoothed her hair back to one side and adjusted the desk lamp Peter had fetched for him to make sure there would be enough light. "Are you sure you want to do this, Claire?" he asked, almost sweetly, putting a warm hand on her cheek and bending over to look her directly in the eyes. She timidly nodded. "Because you know, I might cough on you or something…"

He couldn't help but smile just a bit when she let a small giggle loose. Sylar could hear her heart beating erratically. She wore such a brave face but he knew how scared she was. He would never admit it, but some part of him was nervous as well. Every time he had seen her since that fateful night he had to work to repress the image of her horrified face as he slammed her body against a wall and forcefully ripped open her head so that he could pillage her brain.

Sylar pointed his finger, just above her temple and Claire's hand shot out from her side to grab Peter's. He noted how their fingers laced together so naturally and the subtle way Peter's loving gaze and protective stance worked to calm the girl.

"Everyone ready?" he asked one last time and when they quietly nodded in the affirmative Sylar started cutting. He was much more gentle this time, working gingerly to make sure all the incisions were clean. Peter made a distinct gagging noise as Sylar handed him the top part of Claire's skull.

* * *

Claire could hear the delicate dripping of her blood falling onto the plastic. She wasn't sure how long it had been but it felt like ages and her butt was going numb from laying in such a stiff position on the hard table.

"What exactly are you doing again?" Peter asked, keeping a steady hand in Claire's but obviously avoiding the sight of her open skull.

"Reverse engineering of sorts," Sylar said pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I was never really able to make this ability work for me, but it should be compatible with Claire."

"Wait, what?" Sylar had to place his hands on her face to remind her to stay still. "You're putting something in my head that belonged to a person you murdered!"

"It's not like that, Claire." Sylar took his specs off and moved around to where she could easily see him.

"I didn't kill the girl this belonged to. It was something I absorbed empathically. And it was a latent ability anyway. She didn't even know she had it."

"Oh, so you're implanting something that's stolen and dysfunctional. Nice," Peter chimed in, not sparing the sarcasm.

"Well if you would like me to stop and forget it that's not a problem."

Claire rotated her position just enough to grab Sylar's arm with her free hand. She didn't even have to say a word. They just shared a look.

"I feel like I should warn you, Claire. If I go ahead and install this… Since I'm taking it directly from myself and, well you get the idea," he hesitated to go on. She was running daggers through his heart with her eyes again. "…It might make a connection between the two of us." Sylar could feel Peter boring holes in his back with a glare.

"You'll still be able to use this against me. I just don't know what all the side effects could be." He became slightly distracted, noticing that she hadn't let go of his arm yet. Even though she had turned her eyes back to the ceiling and released him from that piercing gaze, fingers lightly ran themselves over Sylar's effigy of her.

Of course, he rationalized that she wouldn't even know she was doing it. Never the less, inexplicable tingles coursed through him with each touch.

"Just do it and get this over with," she finally said after a long intense minute of deep thought. They both quietly sighed and Sylar set back to work.

* * *

"I don't feel any different," Claire remarked as Peter and Sylar both assisted her off the table. "Should I be floating stuff with my eyes or shooting lightning out of my hands?" She carefully studied her fingers, flexing them all back and forth, waiting for something new to happen.

"It's not like that," Sylar smirked as he warily picked up the plastic that had protected the surgical area from being stained with her blood.

"Okay, so what is it like?"

"If I did everything right," Peter narrowed his eyes from across the room, "then I've basically turned you into the defensive player of the year." His smirk came creeping out with the surprised look on her face.

Without any warning Sylar charged up his hands with crackling electricity and shot Claire across the room with a long blue streak of it. She crumbled to the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Peter yelled as he rushed to her side.

"It's okay, Peter. I'm fine," she said climbing to feet, skin knitting back together over burn marks, her shirt smoking slightly where it had been singed.

"You've never had an active ability before so it'll take some time to learn how to use it. You'll have to teach yourself how to concentrate on it." Sylar said before sending another harsh jolt of energy her way.

"Damn it, Sylar! Stop!" Peter cried, helping his niece to her feet a second time. He stamped out a small flame on her shoulder while a long burn across her face stitched itself back into healthy skin.

"Peter, it's alright," she said grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to look at her. "He's right, Peter. Everything we just went through will be in vain if I don't learn how to use this."

"Claire, he's not teaching you anything! This is just a sick excuse to get his rocks off torturing you." Peter's eyes were practically on fire with rage.

"Peter, go. I can handle this," she shoved him away and pointed a sassy finger to the door. He huffed and he puffed for a moment looking between them, but he knew this was an argument he wasn't going to win.

"Maybe this is something we should take outside," Sylar mentioned, noting the fresh scorch mark on the wooden floor.

* * *

"You have to concentrate, Claire," Sylar moaned with exasperation, shocking her just a bit more while she writhed on the ground. "Just think about stopping my power from touching you. Don't worry about fighting back. Just focus on stopping the energy."

Two hours and three shirts later she hadn't been able to activate the new power Sylar had installed in her brain. He had been so confident that it would work for her but now he was seriously starting to wonder if the ability was defunct after all. She climbed to her feet and brushed herself off.

"One more time," she snarled, gritting her teeth together with iron conviction.

Sylar had to admit that he was impressed. She may not have been able to stop the beating the way he had hoped, but she was taking each hit like a pro. He gave her a second to be ready and fired another long arch of blue lightning in her direction.

Claire ignored the rest of the world around her, solely focusing on the bolt of energy coming her way. The chirping of the birds in the background, the gleam of sunshine off of Sylar's sweat-beaded neck and the wind that blew her hair into her face all faded away. When the crackle of the electricity got closer she shoved her hands out in front of her just thinking _stop._

A hot stinging sensation jolted her hands and she thought that she had failed to stop Sylar's attack again, until she noticed a strange film in her vision. It was almost like she was looking at the world in front of her through a foggy window.

"Claire! You did it!" Sylar shouted excitedly.

She looked out at her hands and found a rippling force field emanating from her. It seemed to glow in the warm sunshine. As soon as she lost her concentration though it disappeared from view.

"Do it again!" He yelled from across the yard, switching tactics. He levitated a handful of gravel from the drive. With a flick of his wrist he sent a volley of speeding pebble sized bullets in her direction.

Once again, Claire set her mind to the simple thought of just wanting the attack to stop. Her fingers started warming up. That heat spread through her hands and down her arms this time. The shimmering barrier appeared, waving delicately before her. Each of Sylar's projectiles pounded into her force field, making deep indentations, threatening to break through. Claire tried to concentrate harder, thinking about smoothing the barrier out, forcing the pelting attack back. The stones clinked together as they dropped to the grass at her feet.

"That was beautiful!" Sylar said running up to her, kicking rocks out of the way.

Claire had been thinking so hard it was jarring when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her up and twirling her in the air. His eyes were warm and twinkling. A wide grin broke from ear to ear. His nose was maybe an inch away from hers.

Sylar set her down on her feet again but was slow to remove his hands from where they rested on her hips. A million thoughts were bouncing around in every direction of Claire's mind. He had done it. He had taken a part of himself and put it into her, gifting her with a way to not only protect herself, but maybe even others. And now here he was, standing so close to her that she could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. Staring up into big brown eyes she quietly wondered if he even understood how precious this ability could be.

"You turned me into a shield," she said softly after an age of just standing in his arms.

"For all intensive purposes," he said with a delighted half smirk. "It's not just that though. The real ability is being able to turn your own life force into a tangible energy. And since your batteries never run out," he gently tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear, "you should be able to learn how to manipulate it. You could turn it into a shield to protect yourself. Or even a weapon…"

Maybe it was just all the static he had kicked up earlier, but Claire thought he smelled like the fresh air that comes after a summer storm.

* * *

Awkwardness had quickly followed when Peter had stepped outside and seen Claire wrapped in Sylar's arms. It was brief though. There were far more awful things on the horizon.

Sylar had instantly separated from her the moment he sensed Peter standing behind them, but the distance wouldn't survive the news that Claire's uncle would relay. She collapsed in shock, wracked with sobs and broken verses of "No" and "No, it can't be."

He stood by silently, head bowed before the image of family grief, wondering to himself if there was anything he could do to help. Sylar had considerable experience with death, but none of it felt appropriate to share in this dark hour. So he did the only thing he could do. He scooped Claire up in his arms and carried her back to the house, never saying a word as her fists collided with his chest and her tears stained his shirt.

* * *

"Great tragedy struck today when a commercial airliner suffered from an unknown power failure. Transatlantic flight 419 from London to New York mysteriously lost it's engines less than one hundred miles into the flight and the plane was forced to land in the icy waters. The company responsible for the plane is unable to say at this time whether the crash was the result of technical difficulties or pilot error but they are assuring that a full investigation into the matter will be launched first thing tomorrow morning. No survivors have yet been found." The perky blonde anchor woman flashed a smile before handing the spotlight over to her coworker.

"In other news, riots and random acts of violence continue to rock the city -"

Sylar tried to rub the tension out of his forehead as he muted the TV with the flick of a finger. He couldn't even put into words how annoyed he always was when the news people would smile after telling such a terrible story.

Peter had fallen asleep, drink in hand, on the other side of the couch and now sat with his face twisted into the arm. His snoring made an amusing whistling sound against the leather. Claire had tucked herself under Sylar's arm, her fingers still clutching at his shirt, and now she slept heavily beneath the blanket they shared. She had taken the news about Angela's death so hard. They both had.

Her body was so warm next to his that he had started sweat a little and the way she had him pinned into the cushions had become increasingly more uncomfortable every hour. But the way her head rested on his chest he couldn't dream of moving her for his own comfort. Even when she began to drool a little. He marveled in a way at how wrong it was for him to think she was beautiful like this. She smelled like sunshine.

* * *

Claire loved the feeling of the warm sun light on her face. She tipped her shades to smile at Angela, enjoying a martini in the seat next to her. Peter playfully splashed some water at them from the pool. It was peaceful here. Everyone was alive and happy.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a young man standing at the edge of the pool. He was just there watching them all. Claire seemed to be the only one that even noticed him. She waved in his direction but he turned to walk away.

Always curious about mysterious figures she sprinted from her chair to catch up with him. As she got closer she saw that he was wearing one of those flimsy half revealing hospital robes. She asked if he was alright or needed help, but he remained silent. He appeared like he must have been close to her age, but he was dangerously pale and sickly looking. The boy reached out to take her hand, expressionless.

As soon as she took his hand dark clouds came billowing over. Thunder broke the peace. The sick boy started pointing to something behind her.

It was Sylar. He was levitating a few off the ground, murder in his eyes.

* * *

"Claire, please wake up. Claire!"

The voice was so far away. She felt like she had been caught in the undertow of deep waters. The harder she fought to find which way was up, the more she slowly sank downward. Vertigo swirled violently in her stomach.

"Claire, wake up!"

"She's bleeding."

Claire opened her eyes. Sylar had his hands on her face, a worried look on his own. She screamed at the sight of him so close to her. The emotional connection to her new ability activated the shield and sent Sylar violently rocking over the back of the couch.

Peter was there, immediately sheltering her in his arms. She ground her face into him, smearing the blood from her nose.

Sylar reappeared from behind the couch, dragging himself to his feet.

"Ouch."

* * *

Her eyebrows scrunched together and hard creases formed around her eyes and mouth. Claire had been staring down the tea cup for several minutes, concentrating hard enough that she didn't even notice she was being watched. A bead of sweat ran down her temple.

The shimmering force field started to emerge around her. She worked at making it point toward the cup, struggling to keep her thoughts together. She closed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth, building the charge.

She heard the crash and the sound of falling shards. When she opened her eyes though the tea cup was still taunting her, untouched.

"Nice," the deep voice mused.

She didn't need to look to see who it was. After the experiences of the last few years she would recognize that sound anywhere and it belonged to the one person she most certainly did not want to talk to right now.

"You should keep your eyes open. Aiming helps." Sylar's hand appeared on her shoulder.

Claire was quick to shake it off, still refusing to acknowledge his existence.

He backed off quietly, knowing her need to avoid him for the time being. His ego was more than a little bruised by the dream she had shared with them after coming to her senses. There had been a part of him that believed she had started to trust him, maybe even like him. Peter told her that it was just a dream and that didn't really mean anything but they all knew better. If nothing else it was a reflection of her subconscious inability to accept that he had changed, that he could be trusted.

He busied himself telekinetically picking up the pieces of the shattered window behind Claire's tea cup. He delicately melted them back together and replaced the pane. When he turned to look at Claire she was staring at the floor, knuckles white against the counter.

Any hopes he had had of being able to reconnect with her were dashed into smaller pieces than the window she had broken.

He had almost shuffled his way back out of the kitchen when all of the light bulbs systematically burst one by one, raining glass and sparks.

"Sylar?' Claire questioned with an edge in her voice.

"Wasn't me," he said as confused as she sounded.

On the other side of the house a loud crash of breaking glass could be heard, followed by another and another all around the house until the kitchen was hit. Sylar dove to push Claire out of the way, anticipating what would happen next. The window he had just repaired made a slight sucking sound like it was being pulled out before it blew back into the room. Splitters flew like shrapnel, slicing anything in their path to ribbons.

"Claire?"

"Wasn't me either."

Sylar collapsed onto the hard wood floor, a dark red pool of blood spreading out around him. Claire crawled out from the counter that had saved her and moved to his side. There was a sickly gurgling noise in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Half of his face had been shredded away and much of his right side diced to the bone. The impact had been powerful enough to push some of the glass shards completely through his body while others lodged themselves deep into his internals. Only a second had passed but his injuries were severe enough. His eyes glazed over and life left his body.


	5. Chapter 5

Invasion

Chapter Five

Peter ran down the stairs, a few grazes across one cheek and his back but otherwise unharmed by the attack. The screams outside were deafening. They weren't screams of fear though. It was the kind of scream that would haunt asylums. The war cry of mad men.

Dozens of people had gathered outside of the Petrelli house. This would be the attack they had been watching for.

He had called her name several times throughout the house. Each time that she had not responded the knot in his stomach tightened. He could barely breathe by the time he found her in the kitchen and the sight that awaited him there didn't help matters.

Claire was hunched over, face between her knees, hands pulling at her hair, slowly rocking back and forth while blood pooled around her shoes. Sylar was splayed out on the floor in front of her, limp and ragged. Peter reached out to grab Claire's shoulder when she still didn't respond. She nearly jumped out of her skin with the touch. Her hands flew out in front her, coated in blood. It took a moment for her to register that it was Peter. She had gone into shock.

"I tried to take them out … I tried to get it all…" she mumbled incoherently, holding up slivers of glass between red sticky fingers.

Peter grabbed either side of her face making solid eye contact. "I need you to be here with me right now, Claire. I need you to focus." She nodded with him but her eyes were still blank.

"Claire, listen to me," Peter coaxed. "I can fix this, but I need your help."

"Fix this? How can you fix this!" Claire pointed at Sylar's mangled body breaking down into a traumatized fit. "I pulled the pieces out of the spot. I pulled them all out and he's still dead!" She rubbed the tears away, smearing his blood across her face.

"Claire, please. I need you to trust me. I _can _fix it, but I really need you to be here with me." No response.

Peter sighed and picked up Sylar's body by the arms, dragging him out of the room. Profanities started spewing liberally after hauling the carcass half way up the stair case. "Heavy son-of-a-". When one of the body's hands slammed against the banister an exposed finger bone was torn loose and bounced down the stairs.

Claire picked up the severed finger. Peter was a little disturbed by the way she held it up to examine it. The back door slammed open and shut. Whispers crept up to them from the hall. Peter hit double-time trying to get the body to a safer place. He even stopped caring if Sylar's head banged a few steps along the way for the sake of speed.

The power of flight wasn't going to be the most helpful for a last stand. A broken Claire wasn't going to be of much assistance either. Their only hope was reviving Sylar. Fortunately, Peter knew just how to do that.

Peter managed to tug Sylar's body into his bedroom just as the floor board at the base of the stairs creaked under a heavy foot step. Claire calmly sat on the edge of the bed, her vacant eyes watching as Peter rummaged around in his closet. He retrieved a flash light and his bag of medical supplies.

Holding the flash light in his teeth, Peter took a fresh scalpel and made an incision along the length of Sylar's arm where the tattoo of Claire's face rested. Maneuvering the flesh aside, he then explored a specific area with a long pair of tweezers. Demented whispers were just outside now…

The heavy oak door nearly came off its hinges, crashing into the wall. Peter dropped the tweezers in alarm and watched in horror as they slid under the bed. Claire broke out into a hysterical laughter, her eyes growing dark and wild.

A man charged into the room, deranged with blind rage, blood streaming from his eyes, nose and ears. He ran, screaming at Claire, slashing at her face with a with a baseball bat that had nails pounded into the end. She fell to the floor with a heavy thud and a crunch of crushed bone. The man then turned away from her, focusing on Peter as he tried to skitter after the tweezers.

Rough hands seized his ankles, pulling him away from the bed. The air was knocked out of him by a heavy blow to the ribs. A sharp stab of pain reverberated from his leg. Peter swung blindly at his attackers as they flooded the room. Another hit caught the side of his face, blinding him with pain.

The walls of the room started to bow inward and the floor cracked under the pressure of a force drawing everything inward from the center of the room. The screams were temporarily silenced as the force blew back outward, sending bodies through the air and into the walls. Dust rained down on them from the ceiling where it had cracked from the stress.

Claire was standing again, cocking her head to side with a groan as the bone under her eye formed back into place and the gnashes around it smoothed out into new skin. "Ready to play?"

Peter was still recovering as he watched the rippling shield draw itself around his niece. Where it had been a shimmering light before, it was now dark and polluted looking. Where it had been Claire before, it was now a dead-eyed, crazed maniac. She tossed the first intruder she could lock onto across the floor like it was child's play. The attacker thudded into Sylar's lifeless body, nudging it toward Peter so that the arm he had been working on was next to his face, reminding him of his mission. He lunged after the tweezers again.

Zombies poured over Claire, swinging away with they're ghastly implements, only to be washed away again with each dark pulse of her shield. The force field was also acting to make her physically stronger as she tossed another man easily twice her size out the shattered window with no sign of strain. Three others grabbed hold of her from behind, trying to pull her down, but with a roar she threw one over her shoulder and slammed him hard into the floor, stress cracks echoing out from the impact. She forced her shield outward taking the others with it through the wall. At least half a dozen more fell at once when she shaped her power into a wall of spikes and ran them down with it.

Peter had finally located what he thought was the right shard to yank, struggling to see the minute sliver without his flash light. He grabbed the exposed end of it with the tweezers, ready to pull, only to break off the end of the delicate piece as another body came smashing into the wall directly behind him. He desperately searched for it again, the screams growing louder around him, crazed people flying all around him, hitting the walls and the floor again and again.

He finally managed to get the tiny piece of glass out, holding it up to see. It was only a few centimeters long and roughly as wide as a toothpick. There was a gasp for air next to him.

Claire, against all odds had obliterated all but one remaining enemy who she now held by the throat against the one section of wall that hadn't been split apart. The wretched creature spit blood at her, emitting muffled shrieks of hatred. She had her head tilted to the side, studying it for a moment before crushing its neck between her fingers.

A finger tapped her on the back and she whirled around to counter attack aiming an iron fist in the area where a face would be. A larger hand of equal strength caught hers and she looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes.

"You're alive," she whispered.

Her power dissipated as she grabbed Sylar's face and pulled him down to her level. He automatically wrapped his arms around her, holding her dangerously close as he had often thought about doing. Electric blue energy crackled from his fingertips as they're lips met. It was a brief moment. But it was a moment that he wished he could freeze in time.

The darkness left her eyes and a faint trickle of blood exited her nose as she went limp in his arms. All traces of her dark possession were gone and once again she was an innocent, incredibly sleepy angel.

Sylar scooped her up and gently placed her on what remained of Peter's bed. Sylar began looking around the room. The walls were destroyed, the ceiling cracked in half, the floor had fissures stabbing outward from the epicenter of the action that had just taken place, and nearly every inch of it spattered with blood. Broken bodies and grotesque chunks of gore lay scattered throughout.

Peter whimpered in pain from between the bed and the corner where he had become lodged. Sylar rushed over to give him a hand and help him to his feet. His face was horribly puffed out so that he couldn't open his right eye and blood was seeping from a serious looking head wound.

"Don't tell me Claire did this," Sylar asked, a little edgy as he place his comrade on the end of his bed.

Peter could only shake his head no, wincing when he did it. Sylar guessed that his jaw had been broken, along with the arm he was cradling. There was also a deep puncture in his leg, very nearly a mortal wound, barely missing his femoral artery.

"Take the healing power." Sylar offered his hand. Peter eagerly took it and the subtle exchange of energy.

He groaned, popping his jaw back into place and setting the bone in his arm so that it could heal. As the cuts and bruises diminished Peter began to scope out the extent of the room's damage himself.

"Well, she did do all this," he said pointing vaguely at the structural damage. "But she didn't hurt me. She defended me… In a really, really, really mind warping way…"

"Yeah, I can see that," Sylar said as he kicked a severed arm away. They both took in a long deep breath and exhaled it as a heavy sigh while looking at her, sleeping so peacefully now. And then the remnants of the floor supports gave way, buckling inward and sent them all into the room below with a loud crash.


	6. Chapter 6

Maw of Madness

Chapter Six

Claire didn't even wake up when the bed plunged through the floor and hit the dining table below, tipping over and spilling her out onto the cold floor. Peter laughed as Sylar put some color into their lives with his language while prying a long stake of floor board from his ass.

After the unintentionally funny moment was over they set to work, sifting through the wreckage. Peter started hauling the remains of his former room outside while Sylar pulled Claire from the mess and placed her on the couch to finish her much needed rest. He found a blanket to keep her warm as well as to help protect her from continuously falling dust particles, not that it really mattered much at this point. He pushed her sweat and blood caked hair away from her face and knelt to give her a kiss on the forehead promising that he would return as soon as the clean up was handled. As he walked back to Peter he again had to stop and think that it might a tad dysfunctional how he could still think she was beautiful as a disheveled slaughter machine. Even so, she still smelled like sunshine.

* * *

Standing over the pile of body parts in the yard Sylar mused to himself while Peter carried the last disgusting bits out of the house.

"I haven't thanked you for saving my life yet."

"Your welcome," Peter said heaving the very last armful onto the pile. "I did it for the selfish reason though. It was Claire that tried to save you before the attack really started."

Sylar stared off into space for a moment, cherishing the look on her face when she saw that he was alive last night. He subconsciously touched his mouth as he remembered how sweet her lips had tasted when she kissed him.

"She went digging through your head trying to get all the glass out. When you still didn't come back I sort of assumed that maybe you had figured out how to move the kill spot. It seemed like something you would do."

Sylar smiled, nudging the pile with his foot. "How did you know where I moved it? There was a hundred places it could have been."

"You've always had a flare for the melodramatic," he smirked, gesturing towards the tattoo and pouring gasoline over the pile.

"It adds flavor to life," Sylar said tossing a ball of electricity into the bodies. They both stood there quietly in thought as everything ignited into blue flames.

* * *

Claire was still soundly dozing away when the guys came back. Sylar sidled up to her at the end of the couch, pulling her feet into his lap and Peter perched over the arm turning the TV on. She started to stir a bit, groaning in her sleep so Sylar quickly used his mind to turn the volume down.

"The greater New York area is now officially under quarantine in the wake of the violent riots that have recently created so much chaos in the city." Pictures of mobs with blank faces flashed across the screen. "All airlines have been shut down for the duration and travel beyond the defined borders of the quarantine, prohibited. The U.S. military has been assigned to help local agencies enforce the law and bring order back to the disturbed city."

"Do you think she remembers what she did last night?" Sylar asked patting her feet.

"I have no idea. But if she doesn't, I don't want to have to be the guy that tells her."

Claire drew in a deep breath and opened her groggy eyes, exhaling with a deep sigh. Both men were instantly wary of her every movement, but she didn't even seem to notice them. She got to her feet and stretched and hap hazardously walked her way to the bathroom, shutting the door. A second later her high pitched scream echoed back to the guys.

"I don't think she remembers," Peter said changing the channel.

* * *

They had all been so wrapped up in their own problems recently that they had failed to notice how all of the utilities had been shut down. No more electric, no available phone lines, and no running water - let alone hot water. Their abilities could be used creatively though. Since they had all been in a desperate need for a shower Peter had taken Sylar's ability to freeze things, pouring ice into an empty bucket he had found and then Sylar melted the ice.

"You know, I've had that fantasy about a nurse giving me a sponge bath before, but in my dream it was a least a female nurse," Sylar had prodded with a laugh. Peter couldn't stop the sideways grin.

"You're a sick man, Sylar." He added, playfully throwing the first thing he could find at his counterpart.

* * *

"Sylar, I need to borrow something. I've got an idea." Peter put his hand on the man's back, exchanging one power for another. Sylar barely noticed, consumed by his own thoughts as he mindlessly busied himself fixing a clock that had been broken the previous night.

Claire finally came out of the bathroom. It had taken two hours to get herself satisfactorily clean having to remove all of the dried caked-on blood and sweat. Her hair had been the hardest part. Originally she had had doubts about the new shorter style she was trying, but now she was just thankful for it. When she entered the kitchen Sylar nearly dropped one of the smaller wheel pieces he was working with.

"Feel better?" He asked, doing his best to remain casual.

"Not really," she curtly remarked, taking a seat at the other end of the kitchen island and glancing over at the heavy wooden bed frame that still resided over the crushed table.

Sylar reached a gentle hand over to the side of her face. When she jumped away and glared he felt that heart-bursting dagger again, a feeling that was becoming all to familiar.

"You missed a spot," he said quietly. This time she allowed for his reach. He quickly moved his hand past her face and tugged slightly at her ear, wiping away a small smudge of blood that had been looked over.

"I think I've got it. Come look at this guys."

Whiteness was fading away from Peter's eyes as they gathered around a picture he had drawn on the wall with a marker. His glimpse of the future showed them all walking towards a hospital. A thin young man, stood in one of the windows looking down on them.

"That's the guy I saw in my dream," Claire said in awe as she lightly touched the picture.

"There's our bomber guy," Peter added pointing to a shady figure hiding inside a doorway.

"Wait, wait…" Sylar went deep into thought, scratching at the stubble he had been unable to shave. "Our bomber guy's name was Greenwalt. I checked for his I.D. when he died. He said he worked at a hospital."

"And this guy is some kind of hospital patient I think," Claire added, gesturing back to the boy in the window.

"Greenwalt was getting sued by the family of one of his patients… I remember this… His patient had been in a coma for years and the kid's family wanted to take him off of life support but the doc didn't want to do it." Sylar mumbled, remembering the story from the radio in what felt like a lifetime ago.

"So everything seems to come back to this kid. Looks like we need to get to that hospital."

* * *

The trio walked through deserted streets for most of the way. Trash tumbled in the wind. They had remained vigilant of any threat, almost expecting some kind of boogie man to crawl out from the shadows. But the only signs of life were skitters they would catch out of the corners of their eyes and the occasional maddening scream in the distance.

"Pick your poison," Sylar said extending a hand to Peter once they had reached their destination.

He hesitated for a moment looking around. Fires were smoldering around the medical campus and one of the side offices crumbled slightly, a window breaking and heavy stones spilling to the pavement. A blood curdling howl pierced the air from somewhere inside their target building. Peter settled for the telekinesis, reasoning that it would be the most adaptable power considering that they had no idea what they could be walking into.

The light seemed to fade around them and a chill entered the air, growing as they approached. The entrance doors echoed loudly as they closed and each foot step bounced back to them from the walls.

"Chi-chi-chi, ha, ha, ha," Sylar muttered to himself.

"Something's wrong," Peter said falling behind a few paces.

"Really, I never could have guessed," Sylar said, darting his eyes from dark corner to dark corner.

"I can feel it… This thing… It's like there's something crawling inside me." Peter winced in pain, almost doubling to his knees. He started to claw at the skin on his arms.

Claire knelt to his side, gripping him by the shoulders. "Peter?" Her uncle looked up at her, helplessly. She stared in horror as a darkness pooled in his eyes.

"I can feel it inside me," he grimaced, calling on all of his strength to hold back.

"Claire… Back away from him," Sylar ordered, standing frozen in place.

"We have to help him!"

"Claire."

"No!" She struggled to get Peter to look at her, his eyes now locked onto Sylar. His face was changing. It still looked like the Peter she knew and loved but what made him her uncle was drifting away. Blood started to trickle down his jaw from his left ear.

Peter stood up and shifted his head from side to side, popping his neck. He grabbed Claire's arm, hard, and pulled her close to his side.

"Peter, let go. You're hurting me," Claire whimpered, trying to pull his fingers away.

"Peter, don't do this," Sylar whispered.

"You want her don't you, Sylar," Peter held a lock of her blonde out in front of his face and sniffed it, never taking his menacing eyes off of his opponent. "You've wanted this for a long time now. Wanted to make her yours. Yours to love… Yours to kill…" He tightened his grip on her arm again, audibly snapping something. She inhaled sharply, biting her lip.

"Peter please," Claire pleaded with him.

"That's not Peter anymore, Claire." Sylar took a step in their direction.

Peter pointed his finger at Sylar, causing him to float a few feet above the ground. With a flick of his wrist, Sylar slammed into the wall, pinned against it with his arms outstretched. Still dragging Claire he walked over to the man.

"I can see why you enjoy this so much. It is pretty exhilarating to know you're going to win. To close in for the kill." Peter's finger drifted upward, pointing to Sylar's face. It sounded a little like a dentist's drill when the flesh started separating from bone, a line of blood dripping down to his eyebrows.

"Open your eyes, Claire. This is what _he _does to people. This is what he did to you." He moved his grip from her arm to the back of her neck, forcing her watch.

"How does it feel to be on the other end?" Peter goaded.

"It feels like I'm sorry," Sylar spat through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," Peter laughed shrilly. "Do you really think that saying your sorry makes up for it, Sylar? Or maybe saying it makes you feel like you can convince her that you're a changed man."

"I wasn't saying sorry for that," Sylar grimaced. Peter cocked his head to the side, sensing an ulterior motive.

"I'm saying sorry for this!" A long arc of blue energy sprung from his fingers, shocking Peter into letting go of Claire and loosing his concentration. Sylar slid to the floor, wiping blood away from his eye as the wound healed. One more lightning blast shot Peter into the next wall, knocking him unconscious.

"And I am a changed man. Otherwise you'd be dead right now…"

* * *

They dragged Peter's body into a supply closet and slumped him against a wall. He let out a loud snort making Claire jump back a few feet. Sylar sighed with relief when his friend only started snoring instead of waking up with homicidal tendencies.

"I hate leaving him here like this." Claire said with a lost look in her eyes.

"He'll be safe," Sylar assured. He shut the door and melted the locking mechanism, checking that it would be secure.

"He changed so fast."

Sylar nodded. His heart started racing thinking about what it would be like if he changed that way. If he attacked Claire. It seemed like it was only a matter of time. He looked at her wistfully, catching her eye for a second before she turned away. He knew she must have been thinking the same thing.

"We should get going."

* * *

They entered a long hallway with numerous identical doors on either side.

"Which one do you think it is?" Claire asked turning a wary look to the man at her side.

"Only one way to tell," he said opening the first door to his right.

"Claire, dear. I'd like to have a word with you." Angela sat beaming at the dining table in the Petrelli house.

Claire found herself watching… herself. Her figure came to the table and took the seat next to her grandmother.

"I wanted to speak with you about Gabrielle Gray."

"What about him?" Claire's form nearly hissed the question. Her voice dripped with disdain. She could feel Sylar nervously shift his balance from one to the other next to her.

"I think you should consider forgiving him."

"What? How can you say that? After everything he's done to me! After everything he's done to this family and all those people he murdered!" Claire saw herself slam her hands on the table with conviction. Angela never lost a beat.

"Yes, yes. We all know he's done terrible things-"

"But we've also seen the good." Peter walked into the room taking the seat on Claire's other side.

"He tried to kill me!"

"And he couldn't. You were the one person he could never kill."

"I couldn't kill you if I wanted to, Claire." Sylar's image appeared across the table from her.

"All he ever wanted was somebody to love him, Claire. Someone to think that he was special," Peter chimed in again, taking her hand.

"So that gives him an excuse?" She blurted incredulously.

"No. It doesn't. But you could change that. You could change it all. Imagine how many lives you would save," Angela smiled, her eyes crinkling around the edges.

"That's right, Claire." Nathan's image now crossed into the room, sitting next to Sylar at the table.

"You could change it all."

"With your love you could mold him into a weapon of great good."

"I don't like being manipulated," Sylar said pointedly to Angela.

"Oh, please. We all know that's a lie. If you weren't so desperate to believe you wouldn't make it so easy." The real Sylar grunted behind Claire, his arms crossing defiantly over his chest.

"The point is, he wants to be good. He just needs a reason."

"What about Elle? She loved him and he killed her." Claire's figure leaned back with a smug look on her face like she had made the winning point in the argument.

"She never loved _him._ She loved _using _him."

"He gave his life for me," suddenly Elle was there, standing just behind Angela.

Claire looked back at the real Sylar. His eyes were distant, remembering. The corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly reflecting a deep sadness.

"During the eclipse when we had lost our powers. He died trying to stop your father so that I could get away. He only turned against me when he figured out how I had betrayed him. How I was partly responsible for turning him into the monster he hates so much."

Claire saw herself hesitate, looking at each of the faces around the table.

"I can't believe this… You all want me to forgive the man who has made the last few years of my life a living hell."

"I had a long time to think about it all Claire. When I was trapped in that nightmare I spent years dissecting it all. I could say that I'm sorry. I could beg you on my hands and knees to forgive me. But none of it would mean anything. Only my actions can show you.

I was so terrified of dying alone that I stole your power. I thought that if I could live forever maybe that would be long enough to find someone that would need me as much as I needed them. But while I was in your head I saw everything that you were. Everything that you are. You were whole. Pure. Beautiful and sweet. Some part of me wanted to love you but got pushed away because of how much I hated what I had just done to you.

I knew you could never love me as the monster you saw me as and I could never fix that. I became obsessed over it. I wanted to hurt you because of how I hurt. I wanted to turn you into something as terrible as me. I wanted you to hate me because at least you would feel something. "

"Okay that's enough of that," the real Sylar spun Claire around, opening the door they had come through.

"Don't forget, Claire," Noah appeared directly behind her. He spoke to her instead of the false Claire. "He saved you once too."

They were out in the hallway again with the door shut on the scene. Claire studied her shoes, refusing to look at Sylar while troubled thoughts shadowed her face.

"It was an illusion, Claire. It wasn't real. Don't waste your time thinking about it," Sylar stalked off. She watched after him, confused as much as she tried not to be.


	7. Chapter 7

Sylar Syndrome

Chapter Seven

This time Claire picked the door. They stepped into a quiet apartment living room. Plastic decorated the floral furniture and hundreds of books and snow globes lined the shelves.

"Where the hell are we?" Claire asked picking up one of the globes, shaking it up and watching the white glitter swirl around.

"My nightmare," Sylar said darkly.

Claire turned to open the door again but they weren't allowed to leave so easily this time. The door had disappeared. There was only a solid wall to greet her.

"Can't you just tell me I'm special?"

"What?" Claire turned around to see Sylar, his appearance changed. He was now wearing slacks with a gray sweater over his button up shirt, heavy black rimmed glasses and neatly slicked back hair. She looked down and found herself holding a long pair of shiny scissors where the snow globe had been.

"Oh, God."

"Can't you just tell me that I'm special? That I can be an ordinary watch maker? Isn't that enough?"

"Why would I tell you that, when you can be so much more…" She didn't want to say the words. Something had crawled inside of her and was forcing her actions.

Sylar rushed up to her, grabbing the scissors. They struggled against each other for control of the situation for a minute before Claire jerked hard on the shearing implement, bringing Sylar with them and plunging the twin blades deep into her own chest.

Sylar backed away, horrified at what had just happened. She looked down, shocked to see only the end of the handle still sticking out. Blood was flowing from the wound and coated her hands as she tried to pull the scissors out. Sylar went into shock as she fell to the floor, her eyes glazing over.

He was screaming and pulling at his hair when she started breathing again. With a long gasp for precious air she removed the scissors and watched the mortal wound close. She got to her feet and tossed them clattering across the floor away from her.

"Sylar?" He had his back turned to her, retching with dry heaves. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Sylar, it's okay. It's not real, remember?"

When he turned to face her he was beginning to change the same way Peter had. Blackness was flooding into his eyes, turning them psychotic and dead.

"Sylar, please don't do this. Not now…"

He flicked his wrist at her, sending her flying into the wall, helplessly pinned against it. Dark veins started to appear around his temples and down his neck, pulsating with black energy.

"Sylar… It's me… It's Claire. You don't want to hurt me," she whimpered.

"I know exactly who you are, Claire Bennett. I've been inside of you, remember?" A twisted smile spread across his face and he caressed hers, trailing his fingers down her neck and tracing her collar bone. When buttons started to fly off of her shirt exposing the skin beneath she concentrated on making it all stop.

Her shield started to appear. The rippling energy coursed over her body providing a barrier between her and Sylar.

"You want to play? Alright, let's play and get this over with." She pointed the glowing energy at him and pushed it away from her. He was knocked back across the room, doing a somersault for a landing. She was instantly released from her space on the wall.

"Neat trick cheerleader," Sylar said, jumping to his feet with a wicked sneer. He levitated a few of the snow globes from the shelves and sent them spiraling towards her. Claire deflected them all. He started pulling knives and anything else sharp that he could find in the drawers with his mind, pitching them all at her relentlessly.

All of the projectiles crashed into her shield, denting it, refusing to let go of their target. She pushed her hands out in front of her concentrating harder, brows furrowed, a drop of sweat formed near her hair line. She willed the force field to send the weapons away, back to their owner.

Now Sylar was the one nailed to the wall. He wriggled and squirmed, spouting profanities. One of the knives keeping his shoulder and the wall connected started to slip out. Claire ran over and jammed it back in with the heel of her hand.

"Sylar," she said placing her hands on his face, looking him in the eyes. "You can fight this. You can make it go away. You're stronger than this."

"There's something you're right about. I am stronger than this." He ripped his arms loose and landed a direct punch. Claire was pounded into the floor. Her left eye went blank as the bone above it was crunched down.

Pulling a knife out of his leg, Sylar aimed an angled kick at Claire. She bounced into the air where he grabbed her and brought spine down hard over his knee. A bleeding and battered Claire rolled over the floor, struggling to breathe, groaning in pain.

Sylar came for her again positioning himself to stomp on the back of her neck and finish her off. She could feel him hovering over her and she tensed in preparation for the next blow but it never came. Claire chanced a looked at him.

He was just standing there with his eyes scrunched shut and his fists curled at this temples. There seemed to be some kind of internal power struggle going on.

Claire climbed to her feet, drawn to him. She was compelled to take his hands, letting them unclench naturally and she placed them around her, snaking her own arms around his waist. She placed her head on his chest and listened to the erratic beating of his heart.

"Gabrielle, I need you."

His eyes opened, suddenly void of possession. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair out of her face. She was so warm.

Claire started to pull herself from the embrace but thought better of it. She reached up and grabbed his face bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was eager, hungry. She did need him.

Electricity shot from his fingers. Adrenaline flooded his veins. Their hearts were beating so fast, body temperatures rising. She broke from the kiss to trail her lips down his neck and back up again.

"Tell me you need me," she whispered into his ear.

"I always need you."

"Tell me you want me."

"I'll always want you."

Sylar lifted her up into his arms, moving over to the kitchen counter, sweeping off the knick knacks with a subtle wave of his hand. He placed her on the surface, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulled her into him. He kissed her neck, elated in her heavy excited breathing. Objects started to fly around the room of their own accord, crashing into the walls. A whirlwind vortex surrounded them, enclosing them in their own little world.

She nibbled at his ear and he slid his finger down her shirt, undoing what few buttons were left. He kissed her collar bone, trailing his lips down to her stomach. She slipped her hands under his shirt and violently tore it off his back.

She gyrated her hips, grinding into him and he couldn't hold down a moan of pleasure. He ran a hand up her leg and the small of her back, holding her as close as possible. Her skin was so warm and soft against his.

He wanted to kiss every inch of her. He wanted to smother her in his bottled up affections. He was blinded by the heart bursting joy that she wanted him as well and consumed by primal urges to physically express himself. She unbuttoned the top of his pants.

But it was all wrong.

"Not like this," he whispered, crushing his own moment of happiness. He started to pull away but she grabbed the back of his head, twisting her fingers through his hair and forced their mouths to meet again.

He did want her. Badly. But this wasn't the way he wanted it to go… And certainly not on a replica of his dead mother's kitchen counter. The telekinetic winds died down and everything that was caught up in it fell crashing to the floor.

"Not like this," he whispered again accepting a few more pecks.

He unlocked her legs from around him and stepped back looking deep in to her eyes. To bad the time and place weren't the only things wrong.

Claire drove a knife deep into his gut with a vicious twist and an evil grin. Her eyes were blacker than death and dark veins spread across her chest and down her arms. Sylar felt his heart breaking into a thousand pieces realizing that nothing that had just happened had been real.

"What's wrong lover?" she said pulling the knife out and licking the edge of it.

"What the hell are you?" Sylar stumbled back as Claire landed a kick at the fresh stab wound. He went reeling to the floor. Claire straddled him, dipping in to drop a rough kiss and bit his lip. He turned his face away, unable to look at her.

"Oh, come on. I'm still ready to go." She rubbed her body against his, grinding her hips into him and biting his neck.

"Do you make it a habit to leave a girl unsatisfied?"

"You're not her."

The fire reignited inside him. He slammed her into the ceiling with his mind and dropped her to the floor with a heavy thud. He repeated the process a few times before pinning her down. Claire's body laughed hysterically.

"What exactly do you think you're going to do to me? Hmm? Anything you can do to hurt this body is only going to heal. And even if you do manage to cause some permanent damage, you'll just be killing the one you love."

"I'd rather see her dead than watch you crawl around inside her." Sylar blasted away at her with every ounce of voltage he could.

"Somebody's jealous!" Her sweet voice taunted him between giggles.

Sylar changed tactics and began freezing the floor and wall around her until she was a solid block of ice. He crossed over and placed a hand on her chilled face. Her eyes glistened at him.

"I'm sorry," he said kissing her frozen lips one last time. He walked away, charging a ball of radio active matter in his eyes. He turned and released it. The ice shattered with a deafening crash, spilling over the floor to his feet.

It was to his horror though that Claire's form had remained untouched, protected by the rippling black wall of her shield. She wagged a finger at him, shaking her head.

"My turn."

She bridged the gap between them at full speed, leaping into the air and connecting a super powered fist to the top of his head. He collapsed only for her to pick him up and hurl him at the wall. Dust clouded the air as a support beam snapped in half.

Her black shield formed into a wall of spikes that crushed and gored him against the wall. He cried out in agony and the sound only provoked her more. She grabbed him by the ankles and swung his body over her head and back into the floor like a rag doll.

"I've been looking for someone to play with for so long now. All of my other toys broke to easily so when I heard about the super heroes out there I actually found myself getting excited," she knelt down to put her face right next to his. "But if this is the best they have to offer… I have to say that I'm a little disappointed."

Sylar spit blood on the floor at her feet. "Just tell me one thing."

Claire's head cocked to the side, seemingly amused by this turn of the game.

"I knew she hated me… But could she have ever loved me?"

The creature inhabiting Claire's mind contorted her face in the deep thought, searching for the answer.

"There was potential."

Sylar smirked.

"Then that's enough." He bounded to his feet and mustered every joule of voltage he could and started tearing away at the shield.

She was knocked away, stunned for a moment by the shear amount of power he was dumping on her. The force field absorbed it all, beginning to glow from a dull orange, to a vibrant red, and finally a white hot. Claire's hands pushed out in front of her and strained to control the energy. Her eyebrows furrowed, sweat poured down her neck, and blood slowly trickled from her nose. Her skin started to peel away from her arms under the intense heat and pressure.

Sylar's knees buckled from beneath him. He too began to burn from the massive energies pouring out of him. They were both dying now.

Claire's shield finally hit the point of maximum overload just as Sylar's body gave out and he slumped back against the wall. He watched as the dark field of energy started to break apart. A blinding white light radiated outward from the center, consuming the shadows. All of the energies were released and the blast wave sent Sylar crunching through the wall and the next one and the next one.


	8. Chapter 8

The Sum of the Parts

Chapter Eight

_Thump… Thump, thump… Thump, thump…_

Sylar gasped and cold air burned his lungs. He opened his eyes and Peter was there, screaming in his face but he couldn't hear a sound. Every microscopic particle of his being seared with pain. He held a hand to his face and watched as new tissue, agonizingly slow, sewed itself together over exposed bone. After what felt like hours the softer bones of his inner ear had reformed and he could hear what Peter was going on about.

"Sylar? Sylar, where's Claire? Is she alright? What happened?"

He couldn't speak yet so he pointed a shaky hand in the general direction he thought he had come from. Peter ran through the hole in the wall and next, and hesitated, almost admiring the next. The room in question was still smoldering, the air super heated.

The walls had all bowed outward at a freakish thirty degree angle and both the floor and the ceiling had been cracked clear through to the floors above and below. Scorch marks covered every surface. Blood had boiled away below the black stains, caramelizing into a picture of how the blast had been emitted.

Claire lay sleeping in the middle of it all. Peter rushed to her side and made sure that she was still breathing. Her vitals were strong. Aside from being pretty filthy looking she was fine. He took her in his arms and delicately traced his back to a mostly recuperated Sylar.

"What happened?" she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

Sylar took a strand of her hair, holding against a beam of sunlight that shone through the damaged roof. She was no longer just blonde. It had been turned a pure shock white, something that made Sylar chuckle quietly to himself.

"Dude, what happened to your shirt?" Peter asked quizzically handing him his jacket.

* * *

"So, what's behind door number three? Fantastic prizes or more psychotic dementia," Sylar muttered, hesitant to even touch the handle.

Peter pushed past him and opened the door. It was a perfectly ordinary and peaceful hospital room. The setting sun shone through the window and glinted off the frame of a particularly generic print and a vase of flowers sat on the small table cart next to the bed where a young man slept.

Although the electric power had failed everywhere else somehow the machines connected to this patient were still functioning normally. One screen bleeped regularly showing a digital read out of all the vitals. Another connected to a small handful of the white suction cup sensors around his head, a thin wire arm scribbling brain wave activity across an endless sheet of paper. A sturdy plastic tube cupped around the patient's mouth and lead to a larger machine immediately beside the bed, heaving air in and out of his lungs. Even the small television hanging from the wall was still displaying a news channel on low volume.

"Are you here to help us?"

They all jumped at the sound of the scratchy voice. There was a woman, hunched over in the corner behind the door. Bony hands concealed her face but they all noticed the dried blood around her ears. Peter slowly tugged Claire behind him, shifting to a defense stance.

"Yes, we're here to help," Sylar said taking a small step forward.

"The doctor said he wanted to help too… They all wanted to help…"

"Do you know this boy?" Peter asked warily.

"He's my son. Or at least he used to be, before that eclipse."

Claire and Sylar exchanged meaningful looks.

"One day, all of the nurses taking care of him started behaving… strange. Like they weren't themselves anymore. Everybody started having nightmares, even when they were awake. It felt like reality was being torn apart. And then the first doctor he had killed himself, right over there." A long bony finger pointed towards the window.

"They all thought I was a bad mother when I said that I wanted to pull the plug," a dry cracked sob came from underneath the woman's greasy strung out hair. "But I know my boy… I know my son and that's not him in there anymore. It's something evil…

And then that new doctor came along. He looked at some papers and told me that my son was still in there. He showed me some drawing that was supposed to mean his brain was still alive. He thought it would change my mind… He told me that he couldn't end it when there was still a chance that my son would come back to me…" A troubled, choked sort of wail came from the mother.

"You're here now and there's nothing to stop you. Why didn't you just do it yourself?"

"He might be a monster, but he's still my baby."

Sylar pulled Peter aside and requested that he take the mother out of there. She didn't need to see what was going to happen next.

After they had left Claire started to move over to the machines but Sylar held a hand out to keep her back. He started shutting all of the monitors down and then he kicked at the plug powering the breathing apparatus.

"That was easy," he mumbled scratching his head and listening to the air flow stop.

They quietly watched as the veins in the boy's arms and face ran black, writhing with a will to survive, and then dissipated again as his heart finally came to a halt for good. Claire turned to open the door and Sylar's hand slammed it shut again from behind her.

"To easy," he said, his eyes turning dead.

Sylar slammed the other hand against the door trapping Claire and diving in for a sloppy kiss. She tried to scream but his mouth smothered the sound. When he pulled back she saw his skin healing around his mouth where a dark patch of necrosis had started.

"What's wrong cheerleader? Not into bad boys anymore?" He howled with crazed laughter. She could smell a faint scent of burning skin as he started stroking her hair.

"Tell me, do you still have some daddy issues we could play with?" Sylar's face shape shifted into Noah Bennett's form.

She thrust her knee where it counted and made a run for it out the door when he dropped. Claire ran down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her and headed for the stairwell to get outside. A jolt of electricity hit her in the back and she tripped, slamming her face into the railway, tumbling the rest of the way down the first flight.

* * *

"Claire…" Sylar's voice called out to her, taunting, laughing.

She jumped to her feet, checking door after locked door until one opened. She slid inside and hid under a heavy wooden desk.

"Oh, Claire… Come out, come out wherever you are…"

She could hear the sound of grinding metal as doors down the hall were being pulled off of their hinges, one by one.

"You and me, Claire. You know it's meant to be. Doesn't it all just seem so…" The door to the room she was hiding in flew open. "Inevitable?"

She saw his boots walk up to the desk she was using for shelter and stop. She held her breath trying to stay quiet. The boots turned away and headed for the door. Suddenly Claire was being showered with splinters as the desk flew up and smashed into the ceiling.

"You were never very good at hide and seek."

Sylar levitated over to her, blue lightning crackling around him. He floated her over to him and wrapped her in his arms. They floated together, spinning slowly as he ran his tongue up the side of her face. She struggled against him, smacking at his face and clawing at his neck. He ran his hand up the remnants of her shredded shirt and gave her a nice jolt to the stomach.

"We're going to watch this world burn together, you and I." A wicked smile spread across his face as he looked down at her, fighting against him.

"Thanks for the jump start, baby."

Claire's shield flashed in front of her, a shimmering window now separating her from this twisted visage. He screeched in pain, the high frequency blowing out all the remaining windows simultaneously.

She landed on her feet a short step away from where he seized on the floor. She bent over him, grabbing his face and watching how her touch physically burned him. Pure light started to glow from her finger tips.

She drew concentrated white energy into her shield and pushed it at him. Sylar writhed and retched under the attack, smoke trailing from blackening skin wherever she touched him until he finally lay still.

Sylar's eyes now looked back at her. He took her hand, their contact no longer hurting him.

"Neat trick, cheerleader," he chuckled for a moment before doubling over and squirming in pain again. "You have to kill me," he moaned.

"What? No!"

"Claire, listen to me. He jumps from body to body," another painful grimace. "He can't touch you anymore but we can't let him get out. You have to kill me."

"I can't," she started to cry. The tears started to make an audible hiss as they landed on his hand.

"Claire, I can't hold it back anymore."

Her fingers trembled as she picked up one of the larger splinters from the broken desk.

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle," she whispered as tears streamed down her face.

"I love you."

Claire plunged the wood deep into the tattoo of her face on Sylar's arm. His eyes flickered for a second and went blank.


	9. Chapter 9

Back to the Future

Chapter Nine

Claire sat straight up in bed. She was back in her room at the Petrelli house. She ran to the window and pulled the curtain away. Flashes of cameras blinded her from the drive where dozens of reporters milled around.

Claire flicked on the small radio in the bathroom adjacent from her room.

"In local news today, 23-year-old Brandon Miller passed away. We all know his name by now after the drawn out legal proceedings between his family and hospital responsible for his care. He had been in a coma for four years when his mother made the decision to take him off of life support."

Bounding down the stairs, Claire's grandmother's voice greeted her.

"Nathan was a great leader and now you can be too."

"Angela! You have no idea how great it is to see you again." Claire nearly knocked the older woman down as she jumped for a hug. "Oh, Peter, I'm so happy you're alright. I worried about you the whole time you were gone."

"I didn't go anywhere," he said with a confused sideways smile. "Are you feeling okay, Claire?" Peter put a hand on her forehead checking for a fever.

Someone screamed from outside. Peter flinched and gave a worried look to Angela.

"Sylar!" Claire sprinted for the front door and slid to a stop, reversing course and running back to Peter, grabbing his arm to keep herself from slipping. "Oh! Peter, you're going to take the job. And I know who your first two agents are going to be. Trust me, it's all going to work out!"

"I didn't tell you about any job…" Claire was running for the front door at top speed.

"You invited Sylar here?" Peter called after her. He looked back to his mother who was turning away with a smile slowly spreading. There was a bright twinkle in her eyes.

Sylar was laughing as the last of the reporters fled down the street. He turned back to head towards the door of the Petrelli place when a white streak hit him and knocked him to the ground.

"Claire?"

She beamed up at him.

"You changed your hair," he said tucking a rogue lock behind her ear. "It looks good."

They got to their feet and walked up the lawn to the house side by side. Claire subtly took his hand and he laced his fingers through hers, ignoring his confusions over her sudden change of heart for the moment.

It was a brief moment. But it was a moment with little blue sparks and the smell of the air after a summer storm.

"Claire?"

"Hmm?"

"Nice underwear."


End file.
